Mitternacht
by Chaotic Sanctuary
Summary: A thief comes across a very dangerous man we all know…and might fear. One-shot. Rated T for Violence.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Looking Glass Wars. Frank Beddor does.

**Characters: **Hatter Madigan

**Summary: **A thief comes across a very dangerous man we all know…and might fear.

**A/N: **Hey guys. :] This is my first LGW fanfic so I decided to make it a one-shot to see how it goes.

Mitternacht

It was cold and unbearable at this hour.

The thief ran through the darkened streets, a sheer screech coming from behind him, making him flinch,

"Stop that man! _Stop that man!_"

The thief cursed to himself and turned down an alleyway, coming to a halt. He jerked his head and looked down the alley. He thought all was safe until-

Dogs barked and snarled. The Police were after him.

The thief gritted his untended-to teeth and turned around, running further down the alleyway. He pounced onto the trash bins and jumped onto the roof of the building he was aiming for. He then sprinted across the roof, leaping onto another and landing perfectly on his feet, thought of course, he made a loud thud and caused the ones inside to jump and gasp.

He continued on his escape, thinking he was home free. They'd never catch him, he thought. _No one would!_, until he skidded to a halt, the slope of the roof causing him to fall on his buttocks. He stared at the figure before him. It was a broad figure with a flowing overcoat and a supposed top hat. Through the darkness, he could tell it was a luscious blue-purple color. As the clouds cleared from the moon, the silk attire shimmered…along with a glistening blade protruding at the man's wrist.

The thief hissed and stood. "Who the 'ell are you?" he snarled. "Get the 'ell outta my way!"

The mysterious man did not comply, his hard and stern glare still dead-set on the thief.

The devious man's expression changed from anger to…fear.

"My name is Hatter Madigan," the mysterious man grunted, taking a step forward and only causing the thief to step back. "And if you were smart enough, you would be handing that bag over now."

The thief's eyes diverted to the bag he had snatched, then glanced back at Hatter. He gritted his teeth and held it close, like a little girl would a dolly. "No way in 'ell, prick!"

The Milliner frowned. "Why does no one comply in this world?" He took another step forward.

_Shiiink!_

His other wrist blade slid open and his glare hardened. "You think it's right to steal from an innocent civilian? You must be wrong in the head, sir."

"'Ey…Y-you better stay back! Or I'll…I'll…"

In an instant, the shine of the moon had hid behind the night clouds once again, and all the thief knew was that he felt the menacing form of Hatter near him... He felt those glaring eyes staring back at him, and it made him weak.

The thief cursed to himself again and turned, trying to make a break for it… until he felt a sharp nudge in his back, then something protruding him and tearing at muscle and tissue, pain overbearing him. He screeched, arching his back as the blood splat on the ground. Another blade entered through the back of the man's neck and out of the front. He gagged and his eyes lit up in fear as he stared at the clouded night sky.

The clouded midnight sky.

Hatter frowned as the thief's life was inching away slowly and painfully. He eventually slid his blades out and let the man fall to the roof with a thud, the blood pouring. Hatter stared at him, his eyes almost transfixed on the blood. Its scarlet color was mesmerizing… He then bent down next to the thief.

The dying man quivered and twitched, gurgling. Blood came pouring from his mouth when he glanced at Hatter, shivering.

Hatter reached out with a gloved hand and rolled the man on his back. He was neutral in the face, but devious in the mind. Blades still out, he stabbed the man once, twice, then sliced the man's torso until a scarlet 'X' was formed. He did it again, deeper this time. Blood dripped onto the ground and bled through the thief's rags he called clothes.

His breathing cut off, the thief had finally died, his mouth still open.

Hatter eventually finished the boredom-relieving carving of the man and stood, the massive amounts of blood familiar with the Milliner. He had, sadly, seen it many times before. Most of the times, it wasn't even him who inflicted it.

His white gloves were stained with the man's plasma. He'd have to wash it later. The Milliner scowled when the dead man released his bowels and wastes. He nevertheless grabbed the bag and set it off aside so the blood wouldn't ruin the nicely stitched surface. He assumed it was a woman's.

The moon had finally showed itself, as if it were waiting for the right time to come out from behind the clouds, fearful of the scene.

Hatter stared at the moon for a moment then back at the blood. It was now a bright red, shimmering…glistening.

He snapped his wrist blades closed and turned. He leapt down from the roof and into an alleyway. He then walked the streets of Britain in the unbearable cold.

At midnight.

**A/N: **If you hadn't noticed yet, _Mitternacht _stands for midnight in German... Hm. Shoulda made the setting Germany. Oh well.


End file.
